


Filtering

by phalangine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Getting Together, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 16:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20567156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: A king by any other name rules just as hard.





	1. Discretion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first chapter has one ending; the second chapter changes the last line and goes from there to lead to a different ending

Smoking is a bad habit.

Davos tries to remember that as he and Stannis lean against the hood of Stannis’ car in an abandoned lot in the heart of Dragonstone. It’s just past midnight, and the stars are shining brightly against the dark sky.

The light they cast is no brighter than the fire burning at the end of Stannis’ cigarette.

Stannis doesn’t have many vices. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t take anything his eight year old daughter couldn’t buy over the counter in a CVS, doesn’t even buy lotto tickets. His money goes into investments and savings for his daughter’s future. He’s a brusque man, even cold, but he doesn’t have a cruel streak. He doesn’t enjoy fine food or cars.

It’s unsettling sometimes. Even Davos wishes Stannis had something he truly liked to excess. His sole open joy died at his own hands long before he met Davos; his stories of training Proudwing begin with pride but end with anger.

Davos has wondered if that’s Stannis’ real vice. He soaks in his rage, salting his own wounds.

That would be more concerning if Davos didn’t know Stannis has another, more common vice.

Somehow, at some point in the middle of his life of self-denial and duty, Stannis Baratheon picked up a cigarette, choked through the experience, and kept with it.

Davos can guess when. Even unstoppable men like Stannis can’t escape hunger’s claws. It probably seemed practical- suppress his appetite and give himself more energy.

Gods know learning to smoke was probably the sort of challenge that would set off Stannis’ stubborn streak.

As a father, Davos wants to take the cigarette out of Stannis’ fingers, drop it on the ground, and grind it out.

As Stannis’ lieutenant, he wants to take the carton and remind Stannis that he can’t fix Robert’s mistakes if he can’t breathe.

As a man, Davos can only watch as Stannis takes another drag and looks, for a brief moment, like he isn’t weighed down by his older brother’s failings.

There’s a wrinkle between Stannis’ brows that Davos uses to gauge the severity of situations. The deeper it gets, the harder he looks for an exit.

Out here, with no one but Davos and the Marlboro Man for company, the wrinkle is gone.

When Stannis breathes out, it sounds like a sigh.

He doesn’t offer the carton to Davos.

He doesn’t know Davos used to smoke. He doesn’t know Davos’ fingers itched to accept the first and only cigarette Stannis offered him. He doesn’t know Davos wanted to accept it because he wanted to stay at Stannis’ side. He doesn’t know that Davos watches him bring the filter to his lips and breathe in like he can fix things if he just takes in enough nicotine- he doesn’t know that Davos wants to kiss him when Stannis smells like cigarettes and tastes like them and hasn’t spoken for an hour and a half.

He doesn’t know that Davos has loved him from the day Davos took the scenic route home and found the shell of a man dying in the grass.

It hurts to look at Stannis sometimes.

He likes Davos, which is a rare thing. Stannis can respect anyone who does their work well, but he doesn’t seem interested in anyone’s company other than Davos’.

There was Melisandre, Davos revises. Stannis liked her more than he liked Davos for a while.

Davos still isn’t certain why Stannis stopped listening to her. One day she was in his office, sitting on his desk and advising him as Davos used to, and the next, Stannis was standing in Davos’ apartment, demanding to know what was keeping Davos from joining him at breakfast. There were Lannisters to thwart and Starks to outwit.

Now Davos is back in Stannis’ good graces, though he isn’t sure why, and he isn’t sure he wants to know what made Stannis change his mind.

Overhead, a plane’s lights flash as it passes, and Stannis tips his head back to watch its progress.

He looks unhappy, which isn’t usual, but he looks anxious, too, which is. Stannis can be confused. He can be frustrated. He can be outmaneuvered- for a time.

But he’s always active, always looking for a resolution. It isn’t like him to sit in uncertainty and let it swirl around him.

He doesn’t fidget, but Davos can read him well enough to spot unhappiness in the man the world expects nothing else from.

Stannis breathes out slowly, and Davos watches the smoke curl out.

He wishes he hadn’t quit smoking.

Sometimes, when Stannis has had a rough day- a day where someone’s tried to kill him by going through people Stannis is supposed to protect, a day where every plan goes wrong and Stannis can only see his own misjudgments, a day where he asked after Davos’ finger bones while washing blood from his own- his hands will shake too much to get the lighter to catch. Davos will strike it for him, hold the flame out and light the tip for him.

Davos has never been good at self-restraint. When he has an end date, he can settle in until it’s time. But he isn’t good at waiting for things that might never come.

He didn’t wait for a future to come to him in Flea Bottom; he went out and found it.

When Stannis was in his early twenties, he was forced to go underground. He starved except when he could find scraps of scraps. He didn’t have an estimate for when he could re-emerge, but he settled himself in and survived it.

Davos wonders about Stannis when he was young. He must have been one, once. An awkward boy, probably. Tall as he is, he would have had growth spurt after growth spurt, and he isn’t graceful as an adult- strong, yes, and dangerous, but not graceful. Serious and withdrawn as well. Too quiet. Starved for love he was too stubborn to seek out.

A miniature of himself as an adult.

“Is your son well, Davos?”

Startled, Davos scrambles to figure out what Stannis is referring to.

_ Matthos, _he remembers. “He’s doing much better now. I don’t think he’ll walk without a cane for a while, if ever, but he’s alive. His girlfriend is pushing harder for him to propose to her, and I think he might actually do it now that he’s seen her go toe to toe with an entire insurance company.” Davos chuckles. “He’s eager to get back to work, though he’s worried he’d bother you by telling you so.”

Stannis nods, expression thoughtful. He doesn’t mention that Matthos was caught in the crossfire of a fight meant to take Stannis’ life. He’s paid every bill from the expensive hospital and the exclusive physical therapist, though, and he visited Marya one afternoon when Davos was at the hospital sitting with Matthos.

Stannis hasn’t shared what Marya told him, not has Marya, but there were shards of plates on the floor when Davos came back. He can guess at what she said.

Maybe that was when she decided marrying a smuggler was one thing but what Davos is now is another, and this thing is far worse.

Or maybe she knew then what Davos is pretending he doesn’t know now.

Stannis drops the butt of cigarette onto the ground, grinds it out with his toe, and pulls out another.

Davos bites his tongue. Stannis doesn’t have more than one cigarette at a time.

“And your wife?” Stannis asks. “Is she eager to see me as well?”

The wry curl of his lips says Stannis is poking fun at him.

“Ex-wife,” Davos corrects automatically. “Signed the papers last month.” His palms itch; the smell of tobacco from Stannis’ cigarette is distracting. “She’s happier now, I think. Taking the younger boys with her out of King’s Landing, but that’s for the best, I think. She said she’d send me the address once they’re settled in.”

Stannis looks away from the sky and studies Davos. His eyes are dark, and Davos wonders how much Stannis keeps hidden in them.

“They do seem to be happier without us, don’t they?” Stannis asks.

Davos knows “they” means Marya and Selyse, both women divorced and on their way to lives far away from here.

He isn’t sure if Stannis means Shireen as well, but he nods regardless.

Above them, the stars seem weaker than Davos thought.

“Robert made mistakes,” Stannis tells him softly. “He was well-loved, but he was impulsive. He was more interested in having a good time than he was committed to building a strong foundation. He wasn’t careful of his allies, and he died because of it.”

Davos nods again.

“My brother never rewarded loyalty except when he meant to buy it. He let his enemies come into his house with his welcome. I’m not that forgiving.”

Davos frowns, trying to figure out where this is going.

“I won’t let men without loyalty into my home, Davos. I won’t give them my trust. But when a man does his duty, when he serves me well and stays loyal to me even when I fall short- that’s a man I intend to keep very close.”

“Any man would be grateful to be held in your esteem, I’d think,” Davos agrees.

Even in the low light, he can follow the path of Stannis’ crooked grin.

“Not so many, Davos. But enough.” Stannis reaches into his pocket and retrieves his lighter. He holds out it out to Davos even though his hands aren’t shaking.

Davos takes it and flicks it open. When the flame catches, Stannis dips his head to light the tip of his cigarette.

He pulls away once it’s lit, but it takes Davos a moment to catch up and kill the flame.

Stannis draws a long, steady breath in and lets a long, steady breath out, his features relaxing as he does. “You’re my right hand,” he says. “You've served me faithfully at great cost to yourself. It’s only right that I reward you, and I intend to do so, yet I find myself unable to find anything worthy that I haven’t already given you.”

His eyes are dark, but they catch in the light.

Davos swallows. “I don’t serve you because I want to be rewarded. You’re a good man. A just man. The world needs more men like you.”

“It needs men like you as well. So tell me, Davos. What do you want?”

Davos shakes his head. “I’m happy as I am.”

Stannis shakes his head, impatience sinking in. “No man wants nothing. Tell me what you want, Davos.”

“You’ve already given me everything I could ask for,” Davos replies.

“Then what about things you can’t?”

Men as dangerous as Stannis shouldn’t be so sharp. They shouldn’t care so much about men who would already die for them.

“I’m fine as I am.”

“Not good enough.” Stannis gets to his feet, and Davos, reflexively, does the same. They stand chest to chest, Davos trapped between Stannis and the cavernous world that isn’t Stannis, and as Stannis brings his cigarette up to take another drag, Davos tracks the motion.

“I don’t think you are.”

Davos bites his tongue but doesn’t look away.

Stannis touches Davos’ chin with the hand holding his cigarette, lifting it higher. He’s never been a tactile man. He dodges kisses and bears hugs only when he must. Even when he and Selyse were married, he looked pained by the mere thought of touching her.

He holds Davos’ chin without flinching.

“Ask me for anything,” he orders, his voice deadly soft. “I’m giving you a command, Davos. Whatever you want, tell me.”

Davos closes his eyes. “A cigarette.”


	2. Valor

“Ask me for anything,” he orders, his voice deadly soft. “I’m giving you a command, Davos. Whatever you want, tell me.”

Davos closes his eyes. “There’s nothing.”

Stannis tips his chin higher, and Davos’ breath catches in his throat. “Why are you lying to me?”

“Stannis.”

“If I’m not seen as willing to reward the man I trust the most, what will other men think of me? They’ll leave the moment they suspect I won’t reward them well. You’d put me at risk over a gift?”

Stannis takes his hand off Davos’ face, and Davos feels its absence in the rush of cool air over his skin.

The weight of Stannis’ attention that replaces his hand is like a physical thing, its weight shifting as Stannis searches his face.

“What can’t you trust me with?”

Davos’ eyes fly open, and he knows the moment he sees Stannis’ expression that the question was bait and Davos bit right into it.

Funny, since it’s his gut that feels like it’s been stabbed.

Stannis is a world-class strategist, but he must not see it coming when Davos reaches up and takes the cigarette from his hand.

“This,” Davos says, lifting the cigarette to his lips, and with his first deep breath, gives into the distant craving he’s been battling. He doesn’t breathe it in the right way the first time; he coughs and chokes until his lungs adjust.

He takes a second drag and a third, his lungs remembering how to expand in time with the smoke, and finally, his good living gives way to the part of him that’s gnawing at himself, starved for danger for its own sake.

Stannis watches it all with a deepening frown. “Davos.”

He’s confused, and it makes his voice sharp. Men tend to mistake Stannis’ irritation at not understanding for genuine anger.

Up close, Davos can see the difference in Stannis’ features clearly.

“Stannis,” he rasps.

“What do you want?”

It comes out even sharper and a little desperate, and Davos is reminded that Stannis is a man who grew up overnight, a somber boy who watched his parents die into a prince Macchiavelli would have watched govern without complaint. That man felt his brothers turn against him, then watched the world his older brother built come apart.

A man needs to have something stable in his life, but the only stability Stannis has ever known has come from his own stubborn nature.

Davos holds the cigarette back out to him, stopping just an inch from his lips, and Stannis lifts his hand to take it.

“You’re the smartest man I know,” Davos tells him, unable to fight a crooked smile of his own. “Surely you’ve figured it out by now.”

Stannis’ gaze dips to Davos’ lips, then flicks back up to Davos’ eyes. “I’m poor company,” he rasps.

“Not to me,” Davos counters. “And if anyone disagrees- well, I’m good enough company for us both.”

It’s strange to see Stannis out of his depth. He’s always been collected, even when he was twenty years old and starving for a brother he didn’t love.

“Come closer, will you? I can’t kiss you when you’re so far away.”

Stannis nods and takes a step closer, and Davos lets his eyes fall shut as Stannis bends low enough to bump their noses together.

He tastes ash in Stannis’ mouth when they kiss, and when Stannis pulls back, Davos feels Stannis’ breath on his cheek. How can people think Stannis is emotionless when Davos only has to lay his hand over Stannis’ heart to feel it racing?

How can Stannis be a man who only cares about justice when he dips his head to ask for a second kiss as if he thinks Davos might not want it?

Stannis’ war for control of King’s Landing’s underbelly is one of attrition. They have few allies and are running low on funds, but Stannis isn’t finished. He’ll lay his own siege to the city if that’s what it takes to wrest power into his rightful hands.

Davos kisses the corner of Stannis’ mouth. This isn’t something Stannis has to claw and scrape to have; Davos is his as surely as the carton of cigarettes in his pocket.

Unlike cigarettes, Davos is going to keep Stannis alive.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

Still bent close, Stannis nods. His smooth cheek brushes against Davos’ beard.

He seems reluctant to move further; Davos doesn’t want to move either, but they can’t stay here. “We should go,” he reminds Stannis.

This time, Stannis manages to pull away. He clears his throat.

“Home, then,” he orders.

He leads Davos to the car and takes his usual place in the back. Davos reclaims the driver’s seat and buckles himself in. As he does, Stannis says, “Stay the night.”

There’s no telling what that means. Anyone else looking at Davos the way Stannis is would be inviting him into their bedroom, or somewhere nearer, but there’s no telling with Stannis. He might just need Davos to look over his next attempt at taking on Tywin Lannister.

But maybe Stannis does want him.

Davos can still taste tobacco.

“I’ll be wherever you want,” he says.

Stannis nods. “And, Davos?”

Davos looks up into the rear view mirror and catches Stannis’ eyes.

“If that condom in your wallet is expired, we’ll have to stop somewhere and get more.”

Stannis doesn’t say it with any particular heat, but Davos feels a shiver run down his spine.

“I’ll check.”

It isn’t expired, but Davos finds himself in line at a CVS at nine am with a box of condoms in his hand and a bottle of lube he grabbed from his apartment in the car’s glove compartment anyway.


End file.
